Pieces Of One, Part 1 (The Dark Life Collection)

by Ricketts, SVC

  “What’s wrong, Marvy?” Dawson asks, but I waive him away feeling trapped.

  Clutching at my chest, I sputter, “I. Can’t. Breathe!”

  Xander loops his arm behind me to support my slack body, taking me into the bedroom. “Give us a minute. I think she’s having a panic attack.” As he says that, a blanket of blackness snuffs out my thoughts. Xander catches me, sweeping me up in his arms.

  He takes me into the bedroom and gently lays me on the bed. My eyes flutter closed when a cold towel is placed on my forehead. The warmth of his hand surrounds mine; I can feel both our pulses racing in unison. I hate feeling as helpless as I more than likely look, yet I lie immobile. The commands for muscle movement are no longer being heard.

  “How is she doing?” I hear Dawson ask.

  “She’s out.”

  A deep inhale, followed by an equally deep exhale came from Dawson. “Maybe we should call it a night. We have another opportunity tomorrow night. Perhaps she’ll be up to it then.”

  My hand is left cold and Xander’s voice gains distance. “I doubt it. The man with Seviride is the man that almost raped her. She’s terrified.”

  The beat from my heart begins to slow along with my breath. Although my skin is still chilled, calm takes me to a place of serenity and I give in to the darkness.

  FO SUM REASON DEY IZ sumpin’ wet an cold on muh forehead an iz drippin’ down my face. My eyes crack a slit an a moment later, slowly open. Where da fuck iz I?

  Dey iz a guy starin’ at me an I look around ta seez I’m ina bedroom. Oh Gawd! Wha kina of shit haz she gots me inta now?

  “Hi,” he breathes out relieved. Me eyes move to him with a flicker of familiarity, but I dun’t know him. He ‘parently knows me, or at least knows Marv.

  Me eyes instantly open wide an dey narrow with suspicion. Dey water with fury makin’ dis guy git up from da bed an slowly back away. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he insists with his hands up.

  Boltin’ off da bed to da opposite side of da guy, I realize I iz farther from da door. Fuckin’ hell! I dart me eyes around to assess my position. Dey land on sumpin’ I could use as a weapon so I snatch up da screwdriver lying unda a bunch of wires an screws.

  “Valeria, my name is Alexander Rush,” he says cautiously, still holdin’ his open hands in front of him. “I’m here to help you. I rescued Marvy from that house.”

  Da sweat from me hand whimpers da sound of muh vice grip on da screwdriver. “Bullshit! I rescued dat stupid bitch!” I hatefully spit. Muh unease iz causin’ fast, hard breathin’ through me slightly open mouth, inflatin’ an deflatin’ me cheeks. Although me legs are flauntin’ outta dis ridiculous red dress, me wrestler stance tellz him I iz ready for a challenge. With me shoulders high, me muscles are tensely on display. “Where iz I? Wha’d ya do tah Marvy?”

  Takin’ a nervous step forward, his hands remain up. “You’re at the Hotel Plage De Sable. Marvy is working with the DEA and Vice. Please put the screwdriver down. I need to talk to Marvy.”

  “Fuck you, Alexander!” I mew resentfully. “Like a chicken shit, shez balled up in sum corner. Mercy iz goin’ nuts. ‘Parently Marv dun wan no part of dis. Whyz dat, Alexander?”

  Alexander drops his hands as well as his eyes. His shoulders release tautness, me words pop him like a balloon an his body deflates. He slides down da wall an sits with his knees drawn in. Hangin’ his arms over his knees, he bangs his head back.

  “Shit,” he mutters.

  Even though I ain’t laid a finger on him, he looks beaten. I see notin’ bout him dat would come close ta threatenin’ me, no malice in his body language. I relax my stance an take a look-see around da room again.

  “Can I talk to Trista?” he asks liftin’ his head.

  I shake muh head confused an scowl. “Who da hell iz Trista?”

  Alexander blinks disbelief. “Trista is the host body you’re in. You, Marvy and the others are her alter-personalities.”

  I snort, “Bullshit. Fuck you, Alexander! I dunno no Trista. I only come cuz Mercy told me to since Marvy iz pissin’ in her ass crawlin’ pannies. I hate dese fuckin’ tins!”

  Alexander folds his legs in an leans forward with his temples his hands. His brow lifts upward with dismay, mouth slightly open.

  “Stop starin’ at me ya creepy fuckwad!” I grumble, puttin’ da screwdriver back on da desk. Da cool glass window feels good against me forehead, easin’ da headache I’ve had fo weeks. Mercy haz been a complete terror an in me ear like a pesky toddler.

  I look back at Alexander an hez still processin’ wat I said–I guess. Dat doe-in-da-headlights look makes him look like a goofy fucker. Whaz she see in dis plow-head? Turnin’ back to da window, I put my forehead against da glass again an look down at da street. ‘Parently, too forcefully as me head thuds against da window. “Ow,” I mutter flatly an laugh at muh stupidity.

  All da little people below dunna hold my attention fo long. Finally, I arch my head ta ask Alexander, “So whaz da dealy-o?”

  I tink he slumps further down da wall, leanin’ back inta it. Alexander tilts his head back an closes his eyes. “I don’t know now.”

  “Well hell, boy! I’m ready to kick sum ass whenever ya get offa yourz!” I jeer, not pullin’ away from da window. An ambulance with its siren an flashin’ lights barrels down da street. I wonder if dis place has a balcony so I can see where da action is. Dey iz so many people down there, goin’ about their business, dat stop to see too. Me fingers make a speedy tap against da window. Mercy only sends me out when dey iz sometin’ dat needs me special skills. Restlessness stews an I’m a bit crabbed dat I seem ta have no purpose here.

  Alexander gets off da floor announcin’, “I need a drink.”

  “Whoop!” I cheer. “Now youz talkin’! Gots any whiskey?”

  Chagrined by his stop hand motion, I sneer.

  “Stay here,” he commands. Fucker.

  With a huff, I plop meself on da bed.

  “HOW IS SHE?” I hear someone ask, concern thick in his tone.

  Another male voice sighs, it’s Alex. “She’s up, but confused. Give us a minute to talk,” he says, his voice getting louder as he heads back into the bedroom.

  A growly angry voice barks, “There’s no time to talk. Seviride is about to leave the club!”

  “Back the fuck off if you want her to get this information! She’s really scared and needs a minute to pull herself together.”

  The urge to pee overpowers my need to eavesdrop, although I want to find out where I am. I run my hands under the water in the bathroom and carefully pat my face so as not to ruin the art that Marvy has created. Tear tracks line through my makeup so I rub my cheek gently to try and blend them away.

  Chuckling, Alex comes into the room and closes the door. I smile when I see him and lift an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

  Alex shakes his head. “Nothing. I made an inside joke only you would appreciate. Here,” he offers handing me a short glass filled with some amber liquid.

  “This is quite the dress. So much fabric to feel so naked in,” I say, walking out of the bathroom. I take the drink, but cast a curious expression. “What’s this?”

  He sighs in frustration. “They didn’t have whiskey, so it’s bourbon.”

  I chuckle, “I don’t drink, Alex.”

  Alex lifts his bewildered eyes to meet mine. My nose crinkles smelling the smoky molasses scent and my eyes twinkle with mirth as I smile. Joy fractures his solemn expression.

  “Trista?” he grins wide. “Holy shit! Am I happy to see you! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!”

  Alex pulls me in an overwhelming embrace making the drink slosh in my hand. Some trickles to the left side of the red dress. “Alex…I can’t breathe.” When he releases his cinch around my arms, I put the glass on the nightstand and brush the tiny spots on the red dress.

  “Oh sorry!” he apologizes. "I’m just really happy to see you!” he repeats, cupping my face.

  A bubblin
g sensation fills me, my smile unstoppable under his barrage of kisses. I can’t fight the impulse to feel his lips and I tilt my head up. The warmth spreads throughout my body, but mostly stays swirling around in my tummy. I slide one hand around, feeling the solidness of his muscular back, the other I place on the curve of his chest. It’s a kiss of longing and a celebration of my return. His lips meet mine with softness and gentility, tongue caressing tongue. The urgency I taste is filled with his desperation.

  I pull back winded. “Hey, hey, I’m here now. It’s me, Alex.”

  He tips his forehead to mine. “Say my name again,” he urges breathlessly.

  “Alex…”

  “I never want to hear another version of my name come from these lips,” he begs, stealing another taste of me. “I’ll do anything you want. Just promise me you’ll stay.” I nod. His anguish bombards me, a tear trickles down my cheek.

  “What did she do?” I whisper. “Where are we? What happened?”

  Alex guides me to the bed and sits on the edge next to me. He brings me back to the flowers and the card, but reassures me that Dawson promised to keep my house under watch. Marvy contacted them to set it all up and together, they came up with the plan to get me out of this mess, this hotel room and the rest of what I have to do. He tightens the grip on my hands. “And you were right. Valeria is Marvy’s alter. She knows nothing about you.”

  My mouth falls open. “When did you meet her? Are you all right? She didn’t hurt anyone else did she?”

  “No, no I’m fine. Marvy fell apart when she saw on one of the monitors Supak sitting with Bryson in the VIP Lounge. I brought her in here when she collapsed. When she came to, it was Valeria. She tried to slice me up with a screwdriver before I could calm her down. Man, she’s a bulldog,” he smirks. “And talks kind of funny. It was a trip! Have you ever been to the South?” I shake my head. “Never mind. I asked to talk to you and she had no idea who you were.” He chews on his lip, possibly debating to tell me more, but says nothing further.

  “So if I go out there and get in trouble, she won’t come to help. She only protects Marvy,” I regretfully admit softly.

  His arms wrap around me again. “I’ll protect you. And you have Dawson and his men there. You’re not in this alone.”

  I curl into his chest with his arms around me where it’s safe. “I’ll be alone with him in a hotel room. In a second, anything could happen.”

  “Tris, I know this is gonna sound weird, but you won’t be alone. As much as I hate it, Marvy protects you and Valeria protects her. They all need you, and right now, you need them. Open yourself up to them, don’t fight them. Use what you know of them. It may be the only thing that saves you.”

  I’m abashed at the thought and look at him with disbelief. I’m not them. It’s not like I can channel them and do what they do. “I don’t control them, Alex.”

  “You can. You have to become them instead of letting them take over. I know you’re strong enough. Deep down, you know it too. Why else would you be here instead of Marvy?”

  That’s a good question. Why am I here instead of Marvy, dealing with all the shit she got me into?

  Alex untangles himself from me and stands. “You can do this,” he asserts and opens the door, calling for Agent Dawson.

  THE BIG, BURLY, grey haired DEA man, that I think is Richard Dawson, walks into the room. I vaguely remember him and another slug in Alex’s kitchen a few days ago. “Well you’re looking better! How do you feel?”

  To me, he kind of looks like an un-bearded Santa in a wrinkled, cheap navy blue suit. His face is friendly with warm brown eyes that sparkle when he smiles. Unlike Detective Pulson, who makes me squirm in my backless dress with his lecherous optical strip-down. Sitting with my knees together, I’m having trouble keeping my legs from flashing. This dress is something else.

  If you can’t handle Pulson when surrounded by all these men here to protect you, how are you going to handle Bryson? Suck it up, Trista!

  I draw a nervous breath as I stand, smoothing out the dress over my knees, and wipe the building sweat from my hands. Pulson is obnoxiously finding reasons to get closer to me and follows me around while I pace. A sticky sickly feeling slops in my stomach, the closer he gets. I muster up courage from somewhere to reply, “Better, thanks. I think I’m ready.”

  Dawson hasn’t lost the concerned look. “Are you sure you’re up to this tonight? We can scrap it, and try again tomorrow night.”

  “No. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get my life back,” I consent with false confidence. I shake out my hands since they’ve gone numb from subconsciously fisting them at my sides.

  Pulson slithers up, grating his rough knuckles down my bare arm. “Once we figure out the mic thing, we’ll get you on your way.”

  A rupture of bile joins the lump in my throat, forcing me to swallow it down. To get away from him, I head over to the techs. “Move,” I command one of them. Clicking the mouse around to check out their set up, I pull up a surveillance program and its diagnostic status window. On impulse, my fingers fly across the keyboard as lines of code begin filling up between the existing codes.

  A muffled chuckle breaks my concentration. When I look up, Alex has crossed his arms to his chest and is cupping his chin, with fingers clamping his mouth. A gloating grin is hidden under those fingers as he watches the others staring at me, astonished at my skills. Irritation crinkles the corner of my narrowed eyes when I shoot him a glare that goes unnoticed. The curious secret making him laugh makes me wonder who he’s laughing at. It flares something intense within me, a writhing anger, both wild and contained. Surprised at my reaction, I rein it in.

  I drop my focus back to the monitor and remove my ear cuff. “Do you have a USB with a 3.5 millimeter jack?” I ask the gawking tech.

  “Wow! That’s hot!” the guy Alex calls Toby, gushes. He weeds through his duffel and pulls out the wire.

  Taking it, I plug in my ear cuff, connecting it to the program. The jewels flash lights through the multi-colored decoration showing its acceptance of my modifications. I put the cuff on and test out the camera to ensure the live feed. After a few more tries and corrections of code, the view of the computer in front of me pops up on the monitor. “Okay, let’s test the audio,” I say to Toby, who is still awestruck.

  Leaning on a propped up arm, he pushes up his glasses and rests his cheek in his hand. “I think I love you,” Toby drawls with a boyish smile. “Will you marry me?”

  “Get in line, buddy,” Alex mumbles behind me. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear showing off the pinkish tones of my cheeks.

  DAWSON PROTECTIVELY LINKS arms with mine as we walk to the hotel elevator. “We have our boys already in place at the club and in the restaurant. Seviride has left the club and gone to Volta. I’m thinking you and Mr. Rush could stage your ‘argument’,” motioning air quotes, “in the bar like you’re waiting for your table.” I nod to acknowledge listening. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Marvy?” He must feel my body trembling through our connected arms.

  I can’t make eye contact with him, or it would give away my apprehension. “I have to be, right?” I contend as we enter the elevator.

  He encouragingly pats my hand. “Good girl. You know, I already knew you were reckless, but you’re also smart and very brave. You can do this.” He looks back at Alex who’s standing behind us. “Mr. Rush is a lucky man.” I turn my head to glance at Alex. He gives me a cocky knowing smile, and nods his head. A flutter mixes with the ever present turbulence in my gut.

  Before the doors open to the lobby, Dawson releases my arm. Alex steps forward interlacing our fingers, and gives it an encouraging shake. He tips his head down to my ear whispering encouragement. “You can do this. Trust them; all of them.”

  I didn’t have to decipher his words, I knew what he meant, I just didn’t know how. How can I call forth the piece of me that has turned my life upside-down so many times? Trust pieces of me that shouldn’t be?
One that I didn’t even know about? I don’t know what drives them out. I’ve read enough medical journals and literature to understand my split came from trauma. But do I really want to seek it out in order for them to emerge? I think not. Then again, Marvy shows up at her whim. Maybe she’ll show and own up to her fuck-up. Humph, I doubt it.

  Alex’s day-old stubble scrapes my hand as I turn to place it to his cheek and give him a sweet little kiss. Without breaking eye contact he breathes, “Just don’t forget to come back to me, Trista Dividir.” My vision blurs his beautiful face for a moment and I double blink to clear my view. The weight of his words suppress any reciprocal thoughts I might have. I open my mouth to respond, but empty air replaces words. Instead, I simply reply with another soft kiss.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Agent Dawson’s sappy ‘Awww…’ expression dissipate into a stony one. The chime indicates our arrival and the elevator doors slide open to the semi-empty lobby. Partially grateful for the disruption, I face forward taking in the smells of the fragrant lobby. “Here we go,” I exhale.

  We step off the elevator, while Agent Dawson and Detective Pulson bank left, and then head in the opposite direction of each other. Releasing hands, Alex and I link arms as he escorts us from the hotel to Volta la Terrea, a few businesses down the street.

  The warm breeze swirls around us, lifting my hair slightly, cooling my sweat-covered neck. My dress waves with the gentle wind, successfully drawing stares from the door attendant and the individuals waiting for their hailed taxi cabs.

  “You look like a dream,” Alex says, noticing my discomfort. “Relax and stop fidgeting with your dress. It’s meant to get attention, remember?”

  I pinch my lips and release my dress. Trying to hold the sides together as we walk to restrict the view of my legs does defeat the purpose of the stupid dress. I trade the silver sequined clutch from my right hand to my left to help steady my nerves. The only thing that does is keep my hand away from the slit. My left index fingers the outline of the small silver pill box held within the clutch. I keep my eyes forward, but tighten my link with Alex and bury my ear into his chest.